


I'll Look After You

by BuckytheDucky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, PWP - mostly, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Plot if you squint hard enough, tell me if I missed tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 19:36:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10815357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckytheDucky/pseuds/BuckytheDucky
Summary: After a horrific day involving a nightmarish mission, Steve returns to the Tower, and the loves of his life make it their own personal mission to take care of him.





	I'll Look After You

With a heavy sigh, Steve steps onto the elevator, thumbs the button for the ground floor, and closes his eyes against the wave of bone-deep exhaustion. It's been such a long day; even his shield feels like it might break his spine where it rests in its harness on his back. What started off as a simple “in-out” mission, with Natasha and the STRIKE team, turned into a show from Hell within three minutes of landing. The intel had been so disastrously wrong: Instead of the small group they were expecting, there had been over seventy targets to take out, and that was with the stipulation that none of the hostages be harmed. Unfortunately, three were killed in the melee, another seven left in serious condition, and half the STRIKE team sent to Medical upon extraction due to injuries suffered during the fight, because somehow, someone failed to mention that the targets had had weapons far beyond anything SHIELD had ever seen. Evidently, cast-offs from HYDRA and AIM had decided to join together after being rejected from the terror groups. Steve is only glad that the op was a success – a disaster almost from the start, but successful in terms of the splinter cell being taken out.

The lift beeps quietly, and the doors slide open. There are still agents running around the lobby of SHIELD HQ, even though it's going on two in the morning. A few nod in his direction, but ultimately, he's able to walk out without anyone starting conversations. A car waits at the curb; he can't help but smile tiredly, knowing this is Tony's way of making sure he gets home okay. He unhooks his shield, slides into the backseat, head thumping against the headrest. The ride is silent, with only the sound of the tyres eating up the miles to break up the quiet. Steve nearly falls asleep by the time they reach the tower.

A suit stands outside the personal entrance. Steve isn't even surprised; he wraps an arm around the shoulders of the armour, tightens his grip on the shield, and allows JARVIS to fly him up to the landing pad outside of the penthouse. He stumbles a bit when they land and watches as the suit clanks away toward the door to the workshop. The lights inside the penthouse are off. He opens the bedroom door, smiling at the sight of a sleeping form huddled under the covers. Steve is pretty sure he knows exactly who’s asleep in the bed, but he opts to take another shower instead of investigating further. Though he took one before the debrief, his skin feels heavy with the events of the past thirteen hours. He strips quickly, steps into the shower stall, and turns on the water.

Steve lets the spray hit his face, wash away the nonexistent layer of grime, though he knows nothing will take away the memories. He pours a large handful of shower gel onto the pouf and starts scrubbing harshly at his skin. A soft grunt escapes him as his flesh turns a vivid red from the pressure and the scratchiness of the mesh. His eyes burn with unshed tears, anger and grief and the overwhelming sense of failure swirling in every inch of his body; he wants to punch someone, something, and it doesn’t matter who or what, as long as he can unleash the violent cacophony of his emotions.

“If you’re trying to tear your skin off, I’d much rather you didn’t, seeing as I’m pretty partial to it.”

Steve drops the pouf to the bottom of the shower at Tony’s voice, letting his boyfriend turn him around. He avoids looking into the other man’s dark eyes, doesn’t want Tony to see just how _off_ he is feeling at the moment. But Tony refuses to allow Steve to shy away; a hand cups Steve’s cheek, gently guiding Steve to meet his eyes.

“What the Hell happened to you?”

“I’m sure you already know,” mutters Steve.

“Yeah, I do.”

No other words are spoken as Tony cards shampoo-slicked fingers through Steve’s hair, tilting the blond’s head back under the spray to rinse away the soap. Once that’s done, Tony slips his arms around Steve’s waist and pulls him in for a tight embrace. The water shuts off behind Steve; he follows Tony numbly out of the shower, lets Tony drag a soft towel along his body, stumbles behind Tony into the bedroom. Bucky is sitting up in the bed now, grey-blue eyes bright and concerned in the dim lights. His metal arm whirs as he reaches out for Steve, and Steve tumbles forward into Bucky’s grasp. Tony slides onto the bed and positions himself against Steve’s back; his hands are gentle as he strokes them along Steve’s sides.

“Let us take care of you, darling.”

“I’m fine.”

“Stop lyin’, Stevie. You’re not fine. You _will_ be eventually, but right now? Ya need us. So let us.”

Bucky helps Steve lay down, stretched out on the bed; Tony drags his hands up Steve’s legs, stopping at the top of his thighs and moving back down. Steve lets out a stuttering sigh as he forces himself to relax, to let them take away the stress. Memories, all the images from the day, start to recede, and his muscles slowly loosen under Tony’s ministrations; his brain gradually fuzzes over, and the exhaustion and frustration he’s been carrying for the past however many hours fades into something less ugly, blossoms into a sweet softness that surrounds him. The sounds of someone rummaging through the nightstand drawer meet his ears, but he keeps his eyes half-closed, gaze focused on the ceiling. A hand, cold and unyielding, slides across his stomach while another, warmer hand massages circles into his feet. The longer he lays there, the longer Tony rubs the tension from his muscles, the longer Bucky smoothes his palm over Steve’s belly and chest, the more Steve is able to slip away from reality, to forget the horrors of the day, until the past however many hours are nothing more than a fuzzy image in the back of his brain.

By the time Tony and Bucky move things forward, Steve is almost completely lost to the hazy, safe buzzing in his head. He feels like he’s floating, like he’s high above the troubles of Earth, like he’s invincible and untouchable and so completely _safe_. Nothing else matters but the hands on his skin and the mouth on his cock. His breathing quickens the closer Tony – and Steve will _always_ be able to recognise Tony’s tongue and mouth – sucks him toward orgasm; he groans when Tony pulls away, but Bucky shushes him quietly. Steve closes his eyes against the sensations, but flashes of blood and gunfire flare behind his lids. Bucky holds him tightly when he gasps and opens his eyes; Tony crawls up the bed to lay next to him, pressing tender kisses to his jaw, making soft reassuring sounds. Fingers wrap around Steve’s wrist, pulling his arm up and out toward the edge of the bed, and he hears the soft snick of cuffs locking. Once his other wrist and ankles are restrained, the sensation of _secure_ deepens in him; he slips further into the feeling of being surrounded by peace and warmth and security. When Bucky’s metal fingers trace his lips, Steve lets his jaw drop open enough that a digit slips in, and he instinctively starts sucking.

Bucky groans, removing his finger, and leans his forehead against Steve’s. “Colour?”

“Green,” murmurs Steve, and the other man moves until he can easily pull his boxers off.

Tony and Bucky unlock the cuffs long enough for the genius to help Steve roll onto all fours, and, as soon as they’re secured again and the straps lengthened, Bucky shifts to rest on his knees in front of the blond. His fingers thread through Steve’s hair, holding him still, as he grips onto the root of his cock. Steve sighs blissfully before opening his mouth. The heavy weight and the taste on his tongue sends a spark of arousal through his body, and he pushes forward until he can feel Bucky’s cock nudging the back of his throat. He stays like that until he’s almost dizzy from the heady sensation; Bucky tugs on his hair, forcing him back, and Steve whines low in his throat. Thankfully, Bucky doesn’t tease, just gets a steady rhythm going, pushes forward and pulls away. Steve lets go of another memory as he loses himself in the slick slide of silky skin and hard solidness against his tongue. Tony’s finger is cold and slippery as he presses it against the puckered hole of Steve’s ass; Steve automatically shifts his hips backwards in an attempt to force the finger inside of him, but Tony places a hand on his hip, reminding Steve just who’s in charge here. So Steve wills himself to let Tony go at his own pace. Bucky slows his movements as Tony finally does what Steve wants.

Steve tries to keep himself in the moment of reality, but he’s unable to focus on more than the points of contact between himself and the two men he loves most in this world. Between the cock in his mouth and the two, now three, fingers stretching him open, his body is adrift, burning up with desire and _want_. He can’t control the moans and whimpers he lets out, the noise of absolute desperation when Bucky stops moving and the fingers disappear. He feels hands, one warm and the other cool, stroking his shoulders, and that’s all the warning he gets before Bucky pushes forward, his cock slipping into Steve’s throat, while Tony presses against Steve’s opening, the head of his dick seeming to split Steve in half. His muffled cry is nearly silent, and then Tony’s all the way, sliding home in one move, and tears are leaking from the corners of Steve’s eyes. He’s sure there’s a mess on the bed already from where his cock has been drooling precome, but he can’t find it in himself to give a damn, not when both of his lovers are moving in tandem, one pushing in while the other pulls out. His body is swaying with the motions, forward to meet Bucky’s thrusts, backward to meet Tony’s.

Tony drapes across Steve’s back, hips angling just right, and Steve can no longer even attempt to quiet the noises. Even with Bucky’s cock in his mouth, his cries and whimpers are audible, and they spurn the other two on. Steve takes everything they have to give, tries to beg for more around the hard length on his tongue. He doesn’t know exactly how much longer it’s been, but it seems like not enough time before he’s swallowing the bitter, salty come that floods his mouth, an obscene slurping noise slipping out as he tries to keep it all without spilling any; Bucky doesn’t pull away, though his dick is starting to soften, and Tony’s hand wraps around Steve’s cock, strokes three, four times, and Steve comes with a garbled shout. Tony’s breath is hot and humid against his back, his thighs and abdomen trembling, as his cock throbs and pulses in Steve’s ass. The wet, warm splashes against his insides are enough to cause Steve to moan filthily, and he whines when both Bucky and Tony finally pull out.

With a rough breath, he collapses to the bed once the cuffs are unlocked, and Tony curls around him as Bucky goes to retrieve a damp washcloth. He cleans them all up, tosses the cloth into the hamper, and crawls into the bed on Steve’s other side. Steve can’t find it in him to complain about the puddle of come he’s laying in; like usual, his partners knew what he needed, knew that using his body in such a way would be the best way to take care of him. He feels relaxed, content, _sated_. Tomorrow’s a new day, but for now, Steve is going to take the chance to be loved and cared for, before he has to go back to taking care of the world.


End file.
